


Tokens of Affection

by Regann



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pining, Reunions, Secret Relationship, Separations, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 01:12:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6099988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regann/pseuds/Regann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry's glad that Len is helping Rip Hunter; he just wishes he wasn't using it as an excuse to steal him things from across the span of space and time. (A tale of separation, reunions and dubiously acquired items of varying historical significance.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tokens of Affection

It’s not that Barry’s not glad that Len has decided to use his stealthy, shady skills to help save the world on a regular basis as one cog in Rip Hunter’s time-traveling, evil-fighting machine.

 

It’s just that he’d be more glad about that fact if Len didn’t use it as an excuse _to steal him things from across the span of space and time._

 

**

 

Despite the fact that Rip Hunter has a timeship at his disposal, his team’s layovers in the present are erratic, short and usually ill-timed. Barry is sure if he asked Len why, Len would have either an frighteningly erudite answer or a glib cut-down about it, so he doesn’t bother. He just looks forward to when his phone rings and it’s Len on the other end of the line.

 

“Are you busy?” Len asks and the rumble of his voice sends a pleasant shiver down Barry’s spine.

 

“Not that busy,” he answers, reaching up to cut off the squawk of Caitlin and Cisco in his ear.

 

“How fast can you be here?”

 

It’s an old joke and Barry grins. “How fast do you want me?”

 

Len hasn’t even had time to disconnect the call before Barry is there, throwing himself at him at lightning-speed. Phones are forgotten and so is breathing as they try to tear at each other’s clothes without losing the contact between their mouths. Len’s less than delicate and he yanks at the Flash suit but finally it slides from Barry’s body into a satisfying pool of scarlet on the floor. Len is more easily divested of his dark shirt and slacks and then Barry is backed against a wall with his hands pinned above his head while Len worries at the line of his throat with lips and teeth.

 

“How long?” Barry manages to ask between pants and moans.

 

“An hour,” Len answers against his skin. A bite before he adds, “Maybe two.”

 

Barry doesn’t like the answer but he accepts it. Then he’s speeding Len down onto the bed before he climbs on top of him. “Guess we better get to it,” he says as he does his own exploring, mouth on Len’s chest, stomach, thigh as he works his way to more interesting areas of exposed skin.

 

Barry doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to Len’s hands on him or the filthy things he purrs in Barry’s ear when they’re in bed together, the sharp blaze of pleasure of Len moving against him that ends with Barry almost vibrating them off the bed from the bliss of it. Soon, they’re both spent and sweaty, Barry draped over Len as they catch their breath. Len’s fingers are sweeping over the knobs of Barry’s spine while Barry lets his follow the curling lines of ink that decorate patches of Len’s chest and arms. He lays his head in the crook of Len’s shoulder and lets everything slow down so he can savor it all.

 

“Where did you go this time?” he asks.

 

“Ancient Rome,” Len answers.

 

“That’s nice,” Barry says, words starting to slur with sleepiness.

 

“Nicer if I spoke Latin,” Len replies. “Can’t believe Hunter’s people have invented time-travel ships but not universal translators.”

 

“Nerd,” Barry teases.

 

Len grins and tugs affectionately on the wild mess of Barry’s hair before he cuts off talk with more kissing. Barry approves.

 

Too soon, Len’s phone is chiming and he reluctantly rises. Barry watches from the bed as he collects his scattered clothing from around the room. “I hate that you have to go,” he whines.

 

“You’re the one who wanted me to be a hero,” Len tells him as he buttons his slacks. 

 

“Maybe I need to rethink that,” Barry says.

 

Len’s voice is muffled as he pulls his shirt over his head. “I’d be glad to go back to a life of crime for you, darling,” he says.

 

Barry rolls his eyes and falls back flat on the bed. “I hate you.”

 

Len’s amusement is a quiet rumble as he leans down to kiss Barry again. He hums appreciatively as he opens to Len’s tongue, arms winding around his neck. “You really don’t,” Len argues as he moves to plant open-mouthed kisses on the slope of Barry’s shoulder. 

 

“I really don’t,” he admits. 

 

Barry pulls away and lets Len right himself, clothes smoothed into place and pockets checked for all the necessities. Barry sits cross-legged on the bed, watching. “Be safe,” he tells him. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

 

“This coming from the Flash,” Len observes with an eyeroll. He pulls his hand from his pants pocket and flicks something shiny toward Barry. He catches it and looks down to see a coin in his hand. 

 

“What’s this?” he asks. The side he’s looking at has a helmet flanked by knives imprinted into its surface. Underneath the images are the letters “EID MAR.”

 

“A little something to remember me by,” Len says. Then he smirks. “The bite marks don’t last long enough.”

 

Barry uses the coin to distract himself as he tries to relax in the bed he didn’t want to leave an hour ago. Without Len’s company, though, it’s less tempting, so he takes a quick shower, throws on his costume and heads back to STAR labs.

 

Later, dressed in his jeans and T-shirt while he ignores Caitlin’s disapproving looks for cutting out on patrol, he studies the coin again. Cisco notices him fiddling with it and swipes it for an examination of his own. It’s Caitlin that ends up going to Google for answers and it’s her gasp that pulls their attention to the computer.

 

Barry holds the coin up to compare it to the image on the screen. It’s called an Ides of March denarius and it commemorates the murder of Julius Caesar.

 

“Romantic,” Cisco laughs.

 

“Only Snart would give you something that celebrates the most infamous betrayal in Western history,” Caitlin sniffs.

 

Barry silently agrees that it’s a little on-the-nose coming from a man who once left him in agony on an airfield from a more metaphorical backstabbing but Len wouldn’t be Len without his decidedly dark sense of humor. As bizarre as it is, he appreciates the thought. 

 

He doesn’t really need anything to remember Len when he’s away but he ends up carrying the coin anyway, like his own brand of good-luck charm. Whenever he’s lonely, he lets his fingers move across the engraved metal and he thinks of the hands that carried it to him from two millennia before he was born. 

 

Maybe it’s a _little_ more romantic than Barry first thought.

 

**

 

Len has an apartment in a nicer part of Central City, though he hardly used it when he spent most of his time planning heists. It’s where Barry and Len tend to meet up when Len is in town instead of time-traveling but sometimes Barry stays there when he’s alone, just because it reminds him of Len.

 

It’s sappy but it’s true; Barry accepts this about himself.

 

After one such night, he wakes up among the rumpled sheets to find Len watching him from where he sits near the foot of the bed. He has a cup of coffee in his hands and looks entirely too chipper for the early hour.

 

“That’s still creepy, even if you’re not a sparkly vampire,” Barry grouses as he stretches, voice sleep-rough. “You could’ve woken me up.”

 

“I just got here,” Len says. “I didn’t even know you’d spent the night.”

 

Barry chokes back the urge to share how much he missed Len the night before but he thinks Len reads it in his face, anyway. He stands, brushing his hand through Barry’s hair as he softly lets his lips trail across his forehead. “Breakfast’s waiting.”

 

While nothing is more appetizing to Barry than time to be spent with Len, food is a close second given his super-metabolism. He scrambles out of bed and shuffles into the kitchen in his sleep pants and threadbare T-shirt to see several plates of breakfast foods on the counter -- eggs, pancakes, sausage, fruit. Barry’s stomach rumbles. 

 

“I love you,” he says with feeling as he starts piling a plate high with food.

 

“If only I’d known you’d be so easy,” Len says, smirking behind the rim of his coffee cup.

 

Barry sets his plate on the table and pours his own cup of java. “The way to my heart is definitely through my stomach,” he agrees. For several minutes, there’s little conversation as Barry makes short work of two helpings of food. Len picks at the offerings but doesn’t make himself a plate, more interested in several cups of coffee, no doubt to combat the peculiar kind of jet-lag that comes from time-travel. 

 

As Barry slows down and sits back to sip at his own second cup, he finally notices a mysterious package sitting on the table near his elbow. It’s wrapped in plain, brown cloth, tied with twine. He shoots Len a look. “What’s that?”

 

“Oh, just a little memento from this last mission,” he says with a bored air that Barry knows is for effect.

 

Barry raises an eyebrow. “You mean like the half a million dollar Roman coin you brought back last time?”

 

“It didn’t cost me anything,” Len points out.

 

“Because you stole it?” Barry guesses.

 

“Gotta keep sharp,” is all Len says. Barry rolls his eyes. Len then gestures with his coffee cup for Barry to unwrap the so-called momento. He does so with a healthy amount of trepidation, the kind of dread that’s become second-nature since he started dating a devious criminal with a penchant for larceny on a grand scale. 

 

The cloth falls away to reveal...a painting. It’s on a wood circle about the size of a dinner plate but it’s the painting itself that takes Barry’s breath away. He recognizes the subject immediately -- Medusa with her snake hair and her angry expression -- and the skill that rendered it is breathtaking. Barry didn’t know that something that could be so beautiful and so terrible at the same time. It’s as if she’s ready to strike at any moment.

 

“Where did you get this?” he asks, still admiring the talent of whoever painted it.

 

“Italy,” Len says, shrugging. “Some kid named Leo.”

 

Barry looks up sharply, wondering if this is some kind of veiled reference to Len’s own childhood. “Leo who?”

 

Len grabs a strawberry from the bowl. “Da Vinci,” he answers, popping it into his mouth.

 

“Len!” Barry says, holding the painting away from him like the snakes on it will actually bite. “You stole a Da Vinci painting?”

 

“His father was selling it because he couldn’t stand it being in the house,” he says. “So I decided to make sure it went to a good home. Parents should be more supportive of their kids, you know.”

 

Barry snorts and gives Len a disapproving look, which he knows will be ignored. “I’m not even sure I know what to say.”

 

“How about, “Thanks for such a thoughtful gift,’” Len suggests. “Not all superheroes have their own personal version of the aegis of Athena.”

 

Barry looks down at the “shield” in his hands. “Do you plan for me to carry it into battle?” 

 

“I don’t think wood will help much against metahumans,” Len says. He takes the chair across from Barry, legs stretched out in front of him. He motions for the shield and Barry hands it over. “Think of it more as a symbol.” 

 

Len holds it in front of him, as if he thinks it could block a blow. “Athena was the goddess of wisdom, courage. The patron of the just going into battle. Sometimes called Promachos, the First Fighter. Atrytone, the unwearying.” Len pauses and sweeps his eyes over Barry, lingering as he takes in his messy hair, sleep-mussed face, the hint of collarbone under the thin cotton of his T-shirt. He doesn’t speak again until Barry meets his steely gaze. “Not a bad match really.”

 

It’s not that Barry ever thought that Len was stupid but he’s always known he didn’t finish high school. It wasn’t until they started -- this -- that Barry realized that what Len lacked in formal education he more than made up for in voracious curiosity. He’s always surprised by whatever bits of knowledge can flow from him, delivered in that deep cadence that thrilled Barry even when they were enemies.

 

Now, listening to Len compare him to some divine ideal...it just makes Barry really hot.

 

Barry deliberately moves at normal speed as he stands up and finds himself a new seat -- straddling Len where he lounges in the other kitchen chair. He plucks the piece of art in question from Len’s fingers and places it carefully on the table, out of his way. “As much as I appreciate the history lesson, I’d really rather talk about something else.”

 

The curl of Len’s smile is a wicked line. “Like?” he asks, even as his hands are sliding beneath the elastic of Barry’s sweatpants, down the line of his back to rest on the swell of his ass, lazy and possessive in the way his fingers stroke the skin.

 

Barry starts working on the buttons of Len’s shirt as he rocks their hips together. “Oh I’m sure you can think of something,” he whispers before he bites down on the lobe of Len’s ear. The sudden intake of breath it elicits is better than whatever smart comment Len was planning.

 

The shield lays forgotten on the table as they get lost in each other.

 

Later, once Len is gone again, Barry takes it with him to the lab and he fixes it above the alcove where the Flash suit is stored. It makes him smile every time he looks up into Medusa’s grotesque features, knowing what it says about how Len sees Barry and what Barry means to him.

 

**

 

This time, they have a whole day and Barry plans to spend it in bed. He’s already called Caitlin and Cisco and told them unless it’s a metahuman incursion, he plans to leave the crime-stopping to the police for the day. Len makes a snarky comment that he would’ve planned a heist if he’d known that the Flash was taking a vacation day, so Barry kisses him quiet, pulling him down among the tousled sheets and comforter where they stay for the next few hours without interruption. 

 

It’s nice to let lethargy settle over him when Barry can nap, Len curled around his spine. The last thing he remembers before he falls asleep is Len’s arm settling around him. What wakes him up is the slow removal of that arm, followed by the loss of Len’s body heat, and he listens to the soft sounds of Len moving around as he remains in that peaceful state between sleep and full alertness. Eventually he feels the bed move under Len’s weight as he returns; Barry settles more fully into the pillows and floats on the soft drag of Len’s hand up and down his bare back.

 

That nice, warm feeling is rudely interrupted when it’s replaced by something cold and metallic being laid slowly where the hand had been stroking. Barry shivers at the strange, cool weight against his skin. 

 

“What is that?” he asks, face still smashed against the pillow beneath his cheek.

 

“A gift,” Len says and Barry starts to groan -- because _again_ \-- but Len’s laugh cuts him off. “This one is actually for Lisa. I didn’t think a bracelet from the Romanov Diamond Fund would be your style.”

 

“Really? You stole from the Romanovs?” he asks.

 

“Actually I got it from the Reds,” Len explains. “Couldn’t let the Communists keep it, could I?”

 

“Of course not,” Barry snarks. “So why’s Lisa’s bracelet on my back, hmm?”

 

“Just...admiring,” Len says quietly, real appreciation in his tone. It makes Barry blush. The cool stones slide down his skin a little more. “I think I might've been wrong. You’d look good in sapphires.”

 

“I’m not a jewelry guy,” Barry says, amused. 

 

“I’m usually more interested in what I can get for them myself,” Len admits. “But sometimes...I find pieces that I like enough to keep.” 

 

“I’ve never seen you wear any,” Barry says.

 

“When I find something I like, it’s enough that I have it,” Len says after a moment. “I don’t need to display it. I actually prefer not to.” His mouth is suddenly against the nape of Barry’s neck. “I don’t like to share.”

 

“Don’t you think things are getting a little kinky?” Barry teases, a little more breathlessly than he wants. The blame is on Len, of course, who is leaving bites on Barry’s skin that he follows with soothing swipes of tongue -- all while he brushes the cool bracelet down toward the small of his back. “I mean, you, me _and_ Lisa’s bracelet?”

 

He hears the soft chink as Len tosses the jewelry onto the nightstand before he’s tugging Barry onto his back so that his mouth can continue with its teeth-tongue combo assault across his chest. There are hands holding tightly to his sides and Barry thinks of _I don’t like to share_ and _The bite marks don’t last long enough_ as he wraps his legs around Len and holds on tight.

 

**

 

The next time Len’s phone calls his, the voice on the other end isn’t Len’s. It’s Ray Palmer’s.

 

“He got a little banged up this time,” he says after pleasantries are exchanged and Barry is able to breathe once he realizes that Ray’s not calling because Len is incapacitated; he’s calling because Len is stubborn and proud, which is not news to Barry in the slightest. “He could use a lift.”

 

Len is grumbling when Barry arrives but he lets him speed them back to the apartment. He settles Len on the sofa in the living room and Len hisses in pain as he tries to make himself comfortable. Barry frowns but doesn’t move to join him until Len looks up and huffs at him. “It’s not as bad as all that,” he says in response to the worried look he sees. “Get down here.”

 

Barry does, tentatively trying to decide how close to sit before Len rolls his eyes and tugs him as close as possible. He lets out a sigh as Len throws an arm over his shoulder and the older man’s head falls back against the sofa. They sit in silence for long minutes, soaking in the other’s presence. It’s more peaceful than their usual greeting but Barry doesn’t mind. His entire life is hectic, between work and being the Flash and sneaking in time with Len whenever he can. There’s something to be said for unhurried, even if it’s kind of ironic coming from a speedster. Barry feels Len slowly relax against him and he tries to hurry it along, his hand sneaking beneath Len’s shirt to rest against his heart. 

 

“You gonna tell me what happened?” Barry asks softly.

 

“Bad guys,” Len says with his usual sarcastic edge. 

 

Barry elbows him in recompense. “When you heading back?”

 

“A few days,” he says. Barry’s head is on Len’s shoulder and he feels the shrug he gives. “Hunter didn’t need me at less than full strength.”

 

“Good,” he says. “Even heroes get days off here and there.”

 

“Really?” Len tells him. “Someone needs to let the Flash know that.”

 

Barry digs his elbow into Len a little harder until the older man laughs and distracts Barry with his mouth. Barry doesn’t mind.

 

The only downside to Len being in town for more than a collection of hours at a time is that Barry can’t just lose himself in their reunion. He has to leave to go to work and do his duty as the Flash -- and, of course, to let his family know that he’s actually alive. Joe tries not to asks questions when Barry spends nights away from home but Barry can see them in his foster father’s eyes. As much as he hates secrets between them, Len will be a sore spot that Barry isn’t ready to address. Once Len is back in present time permanently, the conversation with Joe and Iris will be paramount. 

 

When Barry arrives at the apartment the next evening, Lisa is on her way out. They smile at each and exchange greetings. He notices she’s wearing the Russian sapphire bracelet that Len brought her from the 1920s. She preens a little when she sees Barry’s eyes on it and he shakes his head. 

 

He drops his jacket and keys as he enters the door and looks around for Len. He finds him in the kitchen standing in front of the stove, stirring something in a pot. He’s shirtless and Barry selfishly takes a moment to appreciate the elegant lines of his toned back and the surprisingly vulnerable curve of his neck, left bare by his short, shorn hair. Sometimes it amazes Barry to look at him, this complicated man who has gone against his nature to let Barry into his life. Barry never thought he’d find this wonderful thing with someone like Leonard Snart -- especially Leonard Snart, at least when they first met. How time changes things.

 

Before he knows it, he’s wrapped his arms around Len from the back, nose buried against his skin. Len stills and one hand slides over Barry’s. “How was your day, dear?” Len asks, purposefully obnoxious, clearly amused by the snuggly greeting.

 

“Mostly corpses, blood spatter and fingerprints if you really want to know,” Barry says as he pulls away. 

 

“I’ve been meaning to point out that you chose an awfully morbid profession,” Len tells him.

 

“We couldn’t all choose the glamorous life of crime,” he quips and he gets a close-mouthed smirk for his trouble. He tries to look innocent but fails. “Dinner?” he asks hopefully.

 

After they eat, the lazy mood of the night before continues as they end up wrapped together on the sofa once more. There are slow, soft kisses and gently exploring hands, but there’s not the explosive passion of their usual visits, no frenzy to touch as much skin as possible in the few hours they have. Barry loves this as much as he does the other, the moments when Len touches him like he might break apart, like he’s something fragile instead of the sturdy superhero he is.

 

Barry breaks the easy silence. “Okay, what is it this time?” he asks.

 

“What?”

 

“Are you telling me you didn’t find a chance to steal something all the time you’ve been away?”

 

Len grins. “Save, you mean.”

 

“No, I really don’t,” Barry tells him.

 

He eases away from Barry and goes for his bag he brought with him from the Waverider. “I’ll have you know that this was a rescue mission,” he says, voice distant from the bedroom. 

 

Barry rolls his eyes even though Len can’t see him. “Uh huh.”

 

Len comes back and he’s holding -- an honest-to-goodness _crown_. It’s plain compared to many Barry has seen in history books but it’s definitely a crown, gold and fancy wirework, set with small, glittering stones wrapped in swirls of etched flowers. Even though it’s come to the 21st century via timeship and therefore has not aged since whenever Len snatched it, it looks ancient in his hands.

 

“Do you know how much history was destroyed by Cromwell and his cronies when they melted down the Crown jewels?” Len asks. 

 

“No, but I’m thinking you do,” Barry says, eyes still on the crown. Apparently, one that was once part of the Crown jewels of England. “That?”

 

“It’s either Alfred the Great’s or Edward the Confessor’s,” Len says. “The records weren’t clear.”

 

Len holds the crown to him and Barry takes it. He’s always been more of a science geek than anything else but even he can’t help but be rocked by the import of what he’s holding. “You sure Hunter didn’t boot you off for taking the time to steal this?”

 

“He’s used to it by now,” Len says.

 

Barry turns it over in his hands, admiring the work done by some ancient hands. “What are you going to do with it?”

 

“I don’t really care. Donate it to a museum if it’ll make you happy,” Len tells him.

 

Barry would if he could, but since he is a science geek, he knows he can’t. “It skipped hundreds of years of the aging process, so any tests run on it to confirm its origins wouldn’t get it right. We wouldn’t be able to prove its provenance, either.”

 

“Their loss, then.” Len settles back on the sofa. 

 

“It’s...” Barry begins, not able to tear his eyes away for long. It’s amazing to Barry that something so delicate could last the hundreds of years it did before Len stole it. It’s sad that it would’ve been lost because of the beliefs of one man, if not for the murky motives of a time-traveling thief. “...beautiful.”

 

“I agree,” Len says softly, his fingers brushing against Barry’s wrist. When Barry looks up, Len’s eyes aren’t on the crown.

 

**

 

Barry doesn’t want to admit it but he’s worried.

 

Really worried.

 

He tries not to be but there are so many reasons that could explain why he hasn’t seen Len in a while and most of them aren’t good ones considering he’s on a ship that could return him to any minute it chooses. He tries not to track the days since the last time they had a minute together, but the count is burned into his memory as the days pass. _99, 100, 101…_

 

Joe and Iris know something’s wrong but they don’t know what and Caitlin and Cisco don’t know what to say when Barry can’t make himself form the words to share his fears. He knows Caitlin especially would understand his state of mind, if not his feelings for Len but he still can’t go to her for comfort. The thing with Len is still new, relatively speaking, still so intensely private that he can’t do anything but wake up every night drenched in the sweat that his nightmares leave him in.

 

_110, 111, 112…_

 

Then comes a night when Barry is doing his usual patrol around the city. Only Caitlin and Cisco stay around at the labs for slow nights like this, and there’s a lot of idle chatter on the line that Barry involves himself in whenever he’s not too distracted by what’s going on around him. He listens as Cisco tries to cajole Caitlin into going for drinks after they’ve finished but Caitlin is begging fatigue. Barry smothers a laugh as Cisco starts to whine about them being old before their time.

 

Suddenly, the line goes silent from the Cortex. He hears the buzz that lets him know the line is still active but he knows that they’ve muted the feed on their side. He continues his patrol and waits for them to return. It comes in the form of Caitlin’s voice. “You better get back here, Barry,” she says.

 

Her voice isn’t upset but it’s definitely not at its normal tone. Nervous, maybe? Barry doesn’t bother thinking about it when he can just get there. Within a minute, he’s coming to a sparking stop in the Cortex. He sees immediately why Caitlin called him back and why her voice sounded funny -- they’re no longer alone.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Professor Stein chatting with Caitlin and Cisco, both of his friends lit up with excitement as they listen to whatever he’s saying. But Barry can’t stop looking toward the alcove where his suit usually resides, to the man who’s standing before it, staring up at where the painting of Medusa hangs.

 

Len.

 

In the back of his mind, it reminds him of when Len came to the labs before the Ferris Air incident, still in his parka, with the goggles around his neck. He senses Barry’s presence or notices the change in the air because he turns toward him. Out of instinct, Barry pushes the cowl away from his face as their eyes meet.

 

“He said it wouldn’t be a problem,” Professor Stein says. “That I brought him with me.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Caitlin answers, with a look toward Barry. “He...uh….”

 

It’s in the way that Caitlin can’t think of how to explain Len’s welcome, the way Len makes an abortive movement toward him that makes Barry forget anything about discretion. He realizes that he doesn’t really care who knows what he and Len are and he doesn’t want Len to think he does. 

 

Superspeed, he realizes, comes in really handy when you want to throw yourself at someone you’ve been missing for months.

 

Len lets out a little ‘oomph’ from the hard, fast contact but he catches up valiantly once he processes what’s happened. His arms are as tight around Barry as Barry’s are around him and it’s intimate without anything more than that. Barry closes his eyes as his face ends up pressed against the furry lining of Len’s hood and he feels Len’s cheek pressed against his. 

 

He dimly hears Professor Stein’s “Oh my” followed by Cisco’s “I know, right?” but it’s all background noise to Len’s soft words in his ear. “Miss me?” he asks, shaky humor in his tone. 

 

“Not for a minute,” Barry laughs as he releases his death grip on Len’s neck. He draws away enough to meet Len’s eyes again. He can tell Len wants to roll his eyes but Barry is too quick; he has his hands full of parka and he’s kissing him so desperately that their teeth clack together until Len soothes them into something less frantic. Barry lets him, lost in the moment.

 

They pull apart as the flash of a camera catches on the edge of Barry’s awareness. “Cisco!” he groans when he sees his friend grinning at him over the top of his phone.

 

“All this cuteness and I don’t send it to Lisa? She’ll kill me,” he says as he starts tapping on its screen. “Sorry, dude.”

 

Professor Stein speaks next, directing his words to Len. “Strange how this never came up...well, never.”

 

“Not your business,” he says succinctly.

 

Stein raises an eyebrow and looks toward Barry, like he’s questioning his life choices. Barry clears his throat and ignores it by asking, “When do you guys have to go back?”

 

After so long without any contact, Barry is already dreading it.

 

Stein’s expression softens. “Not for the foreseeable future, actually. Funny enough, both Leonard and I decided that it was perhaps time we stop saving the future at the expense of the present.”

 

“That’s not what I said,” Len protests. “I was bored.”

 

Stein gives him the professor’s personal version of a smirk. “I’ve learned to read between the lines.”

 

Barry would tease Len if he wasn’t so busy being breathtakingly happy. “I’m glad,” he admits.

 

Len’s expression is soft when he looks back at Barry. He doesn’t address Barry’s words, instead asking, “I don’t know about you but I’m tired of the audience.”

 

“Yeah, let’s go,” Barry agrees before makes the dash out of his suit and into his regular clothes. He glances toward his friends. “Drinks another time?”

 

“Absolutely!” Cisco says.

 

Caitlin is smiling at them with a little wistfulness in her expression. “Have a nice night.”

 

Barry is ready to speed him and Len to the apartment when Stein speaks again. “Leonard? Don’t forget your bag of goodies.” 

 

Barry does roll his eyes as Len smirks and grabs a bag with bulging seams. “Couldn’t resist, huh?”

 

“My last hurrah,” Len replies.

 

In a flash, they’re at the apartment and the bag in question hits the floor with an ignoble thud because Len is shrugging out of his parka and throwing his goggles aside. Barry steps close to run fingers over the soft cloth of Len’s sweater as he feels Len’s hands touch his face. He leans in to tease at Barry’s mouth with soft, barely-there brushes of his lips before he tilts Barry’s chin just enough to slot their mouths together. It’s still a little slow, very deliberate as Len deepens the kiss, like he’s planned every move of it like one of his heists. Barry’s arms are around his waist, hands fisted in the material of his shirt like he can’t bear to let go. It’s not far from the truth.

 

“I was so worried,” Barry confesses when they come up for air.

 

“So was I,” reveals Len and something in Barry’s chest cracks open. 

 

Their reunion doesn’t fall into one mood or the other; it’s all over the place, like they can’t decide what’s more important, to assuage the pain of separation or celebrate their reconnection. Sometimes it’s slow and aching, like every touch needs to be savored and others it’s hard and fast, like they can’t breathe without the passion exploding between them. 

 

They slowly strip each other of their clothes as they move to the bedroom but then Barry is on his knees as fast as he can manage because he can’t stand another minute without his mouth on Len, without hearing the groans that tumble out of him when Barry vibrates his throat while taking him deep. Len’s fingers are rough and needy as he opens Barry up but once he slides inside him, Len lets out a slow breath and closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against Barry’s. They stay there long past Barry adjusting to the stretch until he’s the one moving frantically, clawing at Len to get to move on, _harder, faster, now, now, now_. Barry knows that even with his super healing he’s going to be feeling the burn in his muscles for a while and he doesn’t mind at all. He leaves bruises on Len, too, ones that will take much longer to fade.

 

When they finally settle, they’re wrapped in each other so that it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins, which suits Barry just fine. It also suits him that he doesn’t have to count down each minute until Len leaves. 

 

“I won’t miss leaving but I’ll miss the welcome-backs,” Len says into the quiet of the moment.

 

Barry laughs. “I’m sure I can still make it worth your while.”

 

Len grins at him. “Oh I’m sure you can.”

 

Barry kisses him because he can. “What are you going to do now?” he asks, propped on an elbow so he can see Len’s face.

 

“There’s always things to steal,” he muses. “And my deal with the Flash should still be good.”

 

Barry thumps him on the chest. “You think you’re going to go from saving the world on a daily basis back to pulling jobs? It’s harder than you think to stop doing the hero thing once you’ve started.”

 

“I’m not a hero,” Len protests.

 

“What would you call yourself?”

 

“An interested party,” he says. “The future’s mine too.”

 

Barry doesn’t say anything more because it’s an old argument. He doesn’t think it’ll be as easy for Len to slip back into his old ways as he thinks, not after being used to doing something greater. But that’s something they can talk about later. He’s not ready to relinquish the euphoria of the evening just yet. 

 

“I could say something really sappy here but I won’t,” Barry says instead. “I know how you feel about that.”

 

“I don’t know,” Len says, reaching up to touch Barry’s cheek. His thumb ghosts down the line of his jaw until it stops just at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe sappy’s growing on me.”

 

Barry dips his head so that he can nip at the thumb with his teeth until Len lets it glide over his bottom lip. He pulls the hand away but only to wrap that arm around Barry. Barry can’t stop smiling. “We can’t have that,” he teases. “So, tell what’s in your bag of tricks at the door. It’s awfully full.”

 

“I made off with as much as I could,” he explains.

 

“What exactly is it?”

 

“A bunch of old scrolls,” Len says. “From some library in Egypt.”

 

It takes Barry a second to process what Len has said. “You went to the Ancient Library of Alexandria?” he asks, real envy in his voice. “Do you know what kind of knowledge they had there? Some of the earliest scientific treatises were kept there and they’ve been lost forever.”

 

“I am aware,” Len says, faintly sarcastic. “Although I don’t know what I grabbed since I don’t read Greek or Latin or Aramaic or…”

 

“You’ve made your point, you’re smart,” Barry tells him. “But...wow. That’s amazing.”

 

“Eh,” Len says like he’s not impressed. Barry knows him well enough to know he actually is; otherwise, he wouldn’t know to steal a bunch of scrolls before they were destroyed in a fire. 

 

That brings a terrible thought to Barry. “Mick’s not the one who burned it down, is he?”

 

Len’s rich, honest laughter fills the room. “No,” he promises. “I didn’t let Mick have anything flammable in a building full of paper.”

 

“Thank god,” Barry laughs. “I was just seeing it all in my head.” He settles against Len. “There’s no telling what you might have in there,” he continues. “Mathematics, philosophy, history, science…”

 

“Poetry,” Len adds. 

 

Barry raises an eyebrow. “You a fan?”

 

“Who doesn’t love a little Catullus?” he says and Barry lets out a put-upon sigh. “Or Virgil. He’s a riot.”

 

Barry snorts. “Are you sure you’re _my_ Leonard Snart?” he asks. He’s encountered enough alternate dimension doppelgangers that the question isn’t even as funny as it should be. 

 

Len’s eyes lose their teasing light and Barry feels his own humor slip away. The look they share is so intense that Barry feels like he can’t breathe beneath its weight. 

 

“Absolutely,” Len answers.

 

Barry can’t help but kiss Len after that, all thoughts about ancient poets or scrolls of papyrus forgotten. He’s more interested in showing Len just how much the reverse of that sentiment is true, too. For as long as Len wants Barry, he’s got him. 

 

Luckily, it seems like Len plans on keeping Barry around for a long time.

 

**

 

(the end)

**Author's Note:**

> I know this isn't exactly how the time travel is working on Legends of Tomorrow but creative liberties must be taken to facilitate shipping, right? :)
> 
> And now for the historical context for Len's gifts. They are, in order:
> 
> 1) The Ides of March denarius was minted to commemorate the murder of Julius Caesar and the only ancient Roman coin to ever celebrate a murder. Once Octavian came into power, he had them all destroyed, making them that much more rare. As mentioned in the fic, one sold a few years ago for around a half million dollars.
> 
> 2) Whether or not a painting of Medusa by Da Vinci exists is up for debate. According to the 16th century art historian Giorgio Vasari, Da Vinci created a painting of Medusa on a buckler (a small wooden shield used in fencing) when he was a teenager. His father appreciated his son's work but was so disturbed by Medusa's face that he sold it to some merchants to get it out of the house. In Greek mythology, Medusa's head was cut off by the hero Perseus and was given to Athena to put on her own aegis since Medusa's gaze was said to turn men into stone. Athena was the goddess of a bunch of things, including war, wisdom, law and justice. 
> 
> 3) The Romanov Diamond Fund is the catalog of jewels once owned by the Russian dynasty that was overthrown by the Bolsheviks in the early 20th century. Recently a 1922 version of the catalog was found containing four pieces that weren't in the more prevalent 1925 catalog. One of those four pieces has shown up in private ownership but the other three pieces (a sapphire bracelet, an emerald necklace, and a diadem) have never surfaced.
> 
> 4) When Oliver Cromwell's government took over after they deposed the English monarchy, many of the older pieces of the Crown Jewels were sold or melted down for the value of their precious metal. Descriptions list something called Alfred the Great's State Crown and another piece thought to be Edward the Confessor's crown. Whether they are the same or not is up for debate since sources aren't clear. I cheated and smushed the descriptions together for what I wrote here, although in my head, it's Alfred the Great's 9th-century crown that Len brings Barry. 
> 
> 5) The library of Alexandria was largest and most significant library of the ancient world and its destruction has become a symbol of the pain of lost knowledge. There's no telling what works might've been lost forever from its collection.


End file.
